Superman: Dark Times
by thesentence
Summary: With the times we live in, we need Superman more than ever, but he is a figment of our imagination.  However, what if that were to change? Reviews welcome.
1. Hero

Superman: Dark Times

_Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound._

"_Look, up in the sky. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superman!"_

_Yes, it's Superman, strange visitor from another planet. Superman, who can bend steel in his bare hands, change the course of mighty rivers, and who disguised as Clark Kent, a reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way._

That is what it says on the 1950's TV show, but where is Superman? In the times we live in, we need him more than ever, but that may never happen because he is a figment of our imagination. However, what if that was to change?

Chapter 1: Hero

They say I am like a god. They say that I can do almost anything. I can bend steel in my bare hands. I can see through walls. I can shoot fire out of my eyes. I have steel skin. I can fly. I can regenerate under the sun's rays. They are right about my powers, but as for my origin and weakness, that's another story.

What's this about kryptonite? What the hell is kryptonite? Were the makers of the comic trying to sound smart? As for being from another planet, they might be right. I'm not even sure if I am human. I'm also AMAZED at how dumb the people in the comic book are. His disguise is a pair of glasses! Glasses! Even Lex Luthor can't tell it's him, and he is a genius!

I have lived on this world for many years. I go to places where my power is needed most, where no one will notice. Third world countries, inner city neighborhoods, those type of places. In these spots, I don't have to worry about media attention. Every time I demonstrate my powers to criminals, they foolishly try to fight back. I guess that is why they are called criminals, taking advantage of the weak and innocent and are unwilling to give up their power.

I don't know why people do the things they do. They lie, cheat, steal, and even kill for money, fame, and power. Some men kill just for the fun of it. Sometimes I find myself disgusted by mankind, other times I want to relate to them more. Because of my powers, I was afraid of what people might think of me. Besides, this isn't a comic book, so people won't be so understanding. Some might see me as a freak, others might try to exploit me, and the people in Washington D.C. might see me as a threat and try to kill me. Why am I being so pessimistic, you ask? Because I have been down that road before.

One year ago…

Just seconds ago, I was in orbit, listening in on immediate crimes on Earth. As I close my eyes, I try to home in on distress calls. I shut everything out, homing in on the most immediate threat. My eyes spring open as I am filled with excitement, but also fear. This fear tells me that if I don't make it in time, someone might die.

I stand outside of a warehouse in Sicily. I look down at myself, seeing my white Superman t-shirt with tight blue jeans and red sneakers. My t-shirt is filled with bullet holes after fighting some rebels in Africa. I examine the warehouse and it is just as I feared. Cocaine, and lots of it. I look at the back of the warehouse, and that is where I see the girl. It's always a girl that gets kidnapped by drug lords. I walk into the warehouse, and one of the henchmen stop me. He is wearing a white suit with a purple shirt and white shoes. He reaches for the gun in his jacket, and then motions for me to take a hike. Being the rebel that I am, I decide to ignore his warning and keep walking toward the back of the warehouse. The man in the white suit steps right in front of me, putting the muzzle of the gun right by the side of my head, threatening to shoot me. I snatch it from him and smash it with my bare hand. The man throws a punch, but he hurts his hand on my face. He then decides to do the smart thing (finally) and run away. With no time to lose, I dart into the room in the back with super speed, then use heat vision to cut the ropes. The girl appears to be in her early twenties, wearing a pink dress and has shoulder length hair. Just as I am about to escort her out of the room, someone else steps in.

The man is very tall, around 6'7, and is bald. He has hazel eyes and wears a very expensive, black Giorgio Armani suit. He points a gun at the two of us as his other hand sticks out. "She is mine," says the man. "We are holding her for questioning. She will make me rich beyond imagining." I try to humor him into letting her go free and taking me instead. The big man then snaps his fingers, calling in more of his cronies. They all wear expensive suits and hold machine guns in their hands. "Here is an idea. My men are going to shoot you dead while we take the girl elsewhere."

I got tired of waiting. I used heat vision to destroy their weapons. The big man gets frustrated, thinking that the guns probably backfired. Yeah, keep thinking that. "Don't just stand there, you idiots! Kill him!" The cronies take out close range weapons, such as knives and brass knuckles. They charge at me, so I backhand one of the thugs into the others. Three of them decide to jump me at once, so I throw one of them to the far side of the room, and the other two out the door. The big man looks at me, as if he means to melt my face with his unholy glare. "If you want something done right…"

The big man grabs his knuckles and cracks them. He makes a confident smirk and readdresses me. "My name is Falcone. I am the man who will kill you. Tell me your name, stranger." This guy actually sounded like a warrior, but he's nothing of the sort. Real warriors don't pick on the weak and helpless. No man with any sort of pride would treat a woman like this. "I don't have a name. All you need to know is that you will rot in prison."


	2. Fortress

Chapter 2: Fortress

You're probably wondering what happened next a year ago, right? I'll spare you the details. He attacked me, and I knocked him out with my finger. Unfortunately, the young woman that I saved saw me as a freak and ran away. It's Hallmark moments like that that makes it all worthwhile (sarcasm of course)! Not everyone I save rejects me, however. There have been situations where people see me use my powers and thank me. When I was in Africa, the tribal men and women saw me as a god.

The reason why I keep bringing up Africa is because the rebel factions there are bloodthirsty tyrants doing what comes naturally. The last time I was there, I fought off some of the rebels and gave them a reason to fear me. They ran away scared, but I knew they would be back. Africa is also one of the worse spots in the world as far as crime goes. Even now, I can hear the Janjaweeds plotting their next attack.

I've been sitting here in the fortress for a few days now. Like my comic book counterpart, I picked the arctic as my hideout. Instead of crystals, my fortress is built like the Jetsons, with chrome covering the outer layers. I sit inside the lounge area, which is behind an automatic slide door. As soon as you enter the door, you see the recliner in front of the holographic screen. This screen gives me cable television, as well as seeing updates on world disasters whenever my powers aren't enough to hone in on them. I also like to see where and when my powers are needed, rather than going by the luck of the draw. I would like to go to a big city, but there are too many eyes there, and someone might see me when I am on the job. After what happened in Sicily, I am being more discreet with my powers.

The technology in the fortress gives me everything I need, like food, shelter, and clothing. I can also materialize items and sell them in a town for money with the technology here. I have even developed a serum that can give others my powers for 24 hours at a time (or for myself if I ever lose them), and I have made plenty of spares. I could have made the time limit longer or made the powers permanent, but I already know that power corrupts, and not everyone will use these powers for good. If a criminal had my powers, they could cause a lot of destruction in one day. There is also that chance that I may need some help in the future with patching up the world.

I see a report on the holograph screen, so I turn up the volume with my remote. I sit back in my recliner, trying to get as comfortable as I can because I know that I might have to take off again. The report mentions about the increase in disasters around the Saint Louis area, ranging from fires to break ins. Again, Saint Louis is a big city and there are a lot of eyes there. However, if I use my super speed, then no one will be able to see me. That way if the bad guys say they were attacked by a blur, then no one will believe them. I also know about the decline in economic resources in the United States, and Missouri was one of the states that took the hardest hit, and with the economy in a critical stage, poverty and crime will increase.

I put on a blue Superman t-shirt, trying to vary up my outfit a bit. I look at myself in the life-size mirror, seeing messy, shoulder length black hair like some Goth kid. I see my baby blue eyes and my smooth, youthful skin. I look no older than twenty one, but I'm a lot older than that. As I said, I have been on this planet for many years. I dart back into the lounge, seeing the latest report on the world news. I zoom into the kitchen on my right and right back to the screen with a Pop Tart in my mouth. I take my time in eating it as I watch the screen, seeing rising flames in a Los Angeles tenement. Suddenly I'm forcing the Pop Tart down my throat as I get ready to take off. I take one last look at myself, wearing my blue Superman t-shirt, black jeans and blue low top tennis shoes. My shirt will catch the worst of what's to come, but it looks like I'll have to replace my clothes again after this.


	3. Los Angeles, Part 1

Chapter 3: Los Angeles

Los Angeles, the city of angels. I only wish they were true to the latter. Lucky for me, I flew into the burning tenement without anyone seeing me and used my breath to put out the flames. Once they were out, I used x-ray vision to see if anyone was trapped inside. After finding someone trapped under a wooden beam, I pretended to have trouble lifting it while the trapped person helped. Once it gave way, I used my strength to push it aside. The victim was a middle aged man with a receding hair line. He wore purple pajamas with smiley faces on it. The man then grabbed my hand, thanking me for saving him. I then nodded my head and walked him outside.

It is nighttime in Los Angeles, and it is a very big city. Because the city is so big, it is hard to keep track of everything that is going on under its layers. I am so glad that my clothes weren't damaged this time, which means that I won't have to replace them with my hammer-space machine back home. I walk the streets, looking in every nook and cranny for anything out of the ordinary. The LAPD can't cover the entire city, so that is why I'm here. I pass up some prostitutes on a street corner, and one of them approaches me. She wears a fur coat with a pink bra and lace stockings. She has long, dark brown hair and has bright red lipstick on with red low heels. I continue to walk normally as she flashes herself at me, hoping to show me a good time, but I ignore her. She then flips me off and calls me a Goth looking freak for not taking up her offer. I continue to walk away, not letting her get to me.

I walk into an alleyway, then look around to see if anyone is watching. After seeing that the coast is clear, I fly into the skies above Los Angeles to listen in. Just that quickly, I hear a gun shot coming from the north side of the city. I immediately fly there to see what the disturbance is. It only takes me a few seconds to get there as I look down, seeing a liquor store getting robbed. Three men wearing ski masks and holding guns are holding what appears to be a bag full of money. They try to take off in a white van with black windows to avoid detection. One of the robbers turns the key in the ignition and tries to drive off. "Floor it", said thief #2. The guy in the driver seat steps on the gas pedal, but the van isn't going anywhere, probably because I'm holding it from behind with one hand. When the thieves realize that something is wrong, they stop the van and send one of the guys outside to check on it. The other two then hear a scream fading out, seeing that their comrade has gone missing. The other guy in the back seat puts the money down and steps outside to see what happened. The driver sits there, urging him to hurry up before the cops arrive. The driver then hears another scream fading out, assuring him that something is wrong. The driver then jumps out of the van with his gun, frantically looking around. He slams his back against the van and slowly advances toward the back. He jumps out, pointing his gun when he sees me. "Who the hell are you," asks the driver. "In case you're wondering where your comrades are, they are tied up at the moment." The driver then shoots at me, but the bullet bounces off and knocks the gun out of his hand. He holds his hand in pain as I approach him. "I am wearing a bulletproof vest, by the way. I'll be taking back the money you stole."

I was lying about the vest, of course. I just didn't need that thief telling some strange story about what happened. Even as the three men are arrested and taken into custody, I can hear more disasters happening in Los Angeles this night. Looks like I'll be busy for a while.


	4. Los Angeles, Part 2

Chapter 4: Los Angeles, part 2

I zip around the city, handling things as quickly as possible. As always, I try to be discreet with the use of my powers. I listen in on the radio, hearing that 25 lockups have been made in one night. The LAPD are still in awe as to how the crooks were captured. I even went as far as leaving evidence for them. That will get them to work harder.

I decide to turn in for the night. Los Angeles is a long way from the artic, and even I need my rest. I stop in at a Hilton hotel at the front desk. Luckily I remembered to bring a hammer space projector with me to pay for my suite. I reach into my left pocket and push a button. A plastic card appears in my right pocket and I pull it out. The card has an American Express logo on it and for humor's sake, Superman is in the background. I swipe the card through the reader and go down the hallway to my suite.

The inside of my suite is big, but not that big. I stand in the living room by the front door with the kitchen to my right. A gold chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the center of the living room. I walk past the kitchen and open the wooden slide doors to the bedroom. The bed sits to my left with a small television on a dresser at the foot of the bed. I walk into the bathroom to the right and prepare my shower.

Minutes later, I dry myself off and put on my boxers. My hand held hammer-space projector sits by the television in the bedroom. I lay down on the bed, hoping to have a good dream tonight. I lay there, pondering about the work I will have to do in the morning as I stare at the ceiling. I take one last look at my hammer-space projector, seeing the bluish purple lens and its small, flat and silver square shape. It only has one button, and you can guess what that is for. I then start to think about how often I used it whenever I go into a town or city and stay there overnight. Normally I don't carry money on me, so I would use my hammer-space projector to produce gold, jewels, or a debit card. Using jewels will allow me to get away without being asked any questions, but I was too tired to think straight. As I finally slip away into sleep, I ask myself if I have truly done any good, or create more problems.

I start my morning by watching the news. The LAPD are still trying to figure out how so many criminals were locked away in one night. Regardless of my silent intervention, the city still needs my help. Right before I turned in to my suite, I was reading some police files on powerful crime lords in Los Angeles. I could shake them up a bit with my powers, but then I think about another crime lord that I exploited. A news bulletin shows up about a bank robbery just earlier this morning. The crooks made off with 30 million dollars in marked bills. I turn off the TV and walk over to the hammer space projector, picking it up. I aim it at my left wrist and push the button, materializing a black, rectangular wristwatch with a small switch on the right side. The switch is in the off position, and I keep it that way as I put on my clothes in seconds. I put the projector into my left pocket again, then I flip the switch on my new device. Like a chameleon, my body turns invisible, showing that the device works. I meant what I said about being discreet with my powers, I only wish that I had thought of this device sooner. Now I can go anywhere and use my powers freely without anyone catching me.

I follow the getaway car to an abandoned warehouse. I stay in the air so they won't hear any footsteps. Four men in black gear wearing stockings over their heads step out of the gray station wagon, all of them carrying sacks of cash. The passenger walks over to the door to the warehouse and tries to turn the doorknob, only to find out that it is locked.

"I thought you unlocked that door before we left," said the driver.

"I did. I don't know why it's locked."

The poor fools. The door isn't really locked; I'm putting my hand against it from the inside. The driver and passenger both turn the knob, but can't get the door to budge. The driver then motions for the other two to help, but they still aren't budging it. The four robbers combine their strength to try and push the door down, but to no avail. Then the driver takes out his pistol and shoots the lock. "That should do it," said the driver.

"Yes it did," I said from behind them. The four bank robbers turn around to see no one there, but I am standing right in front of them. "Who's there," asked thug 4. I decide to end the game and melt their weapons while they are holding them as they drop them from the heat burning through their black gloved hands. Police sirens can be heard nearby and the thugs decide what to do next.

"Back to the car," said the driver.

I wasn't going to let them get away, so I melted their tires. They decide to try and run, but the police cars surround them before they can run. The officers jump out of their cars and point their guns at the bank robbers, and without their weapons, they put their hands up.

I spend the rest of the day speeding and flying around the city, while cloaking myself so that no one can see me. I stop a bus from falling off a bridge, divert tremors away from the coast, put out a fire or two, and stop petty crimes. I'm hoping that with the criminals I helped put away, the crime lords will notice that someone is hurting their income. Soon they will show their true colors, and then I can expose the Big Man of Los Angeles. I only hope that once he is exposed, he will stay behind bars rather than have a high paying lawyer get him off Scott free. All I need to do is force their hand a little while longer, then the crime lords and the kingpin will unite to try and find out who is attacking their empires.

As night falls over Los Angeles, I relocate to a motel rather than stay at the Hilton to avoid questions. During my daily rounds, I flew out of town to a coal mine and grabbed a few chunks of coal to make diamonds. I stopped at an auction house and sold the diamonds, getting a big wad of cash. As I claim my room key, I fly off to do my nightly rounds. At night, I don't need the cloaking device, so I can use super speed to avoid detection. As I continue to save lives, I still question myself, wondering if the day will come that someone will help me. Having a sidekick would be cool, but what if I give them powers and they become addicted? What if I create a monster? I put that out of my mind as I resume my mission.

I hardly give myself time to relax because I am always on the go, trying to forget that the world is a rotten place. I try to inspire people from the shadows, but it is not enough. I finally slow down for a few moments as I walk down a sidewalk in the ghetto of L.A. I find myself passing up the same prostitute from before, the one that called me a Goth freak. I stop this time and hand her a fifty, then I escort her to a nearby alley. She looks around and makes a look of disappointment.

"You know, I would expect someplace more romantic."

"I only paid you to talk with you," I said. "Yeah, well I'm on the clock, so do you want a good time or not?"

"Your name is Gretchen Wells. You have been a prostitute for 4 years. How am I doing so far?" Gretchen looks at me with disbelief, then speaks in a questioning tone of voice.

"How do you know that?"

"I know that your pimp is an employee of the L.A. crime king. Tell me what you know about him, and I can guarantee your protection."

"You can't protect me. If I say anything, he'll kill me and you too. Plus, the kingpin has a lot of power."

"I know a thing or two about power. Just tell me how to get to him," I reassure her.

Gretchen shakes her head, having a twinge of fear in her eyes. I walk over to her and put my hands on her shoulders. I look her in the eyes, trying to comfort her. "I understand that you are scared, but I will handle it. I can free you from this life." I then scoop her into my arms and she smiles at me. "Oh, so you're ready to take me back to your place then?"

"Maybe." I think to myself, wondering how I can make her believe that I can save her from her pimp and from the kingpin. I don't do this often, so I look at her nervously.

"Gretchen, look down." She looks down, and sees that we are miles up in the air. She grabs onto me, and becomes slightly hysterical. "What the hell, you're flying?"

I take her back to the motel and land right in front of my door. I put her down, and she paces, rubbing her hands and then folds her arms. "S-so, you can fly? What are you, like Superman or something?"

"Something like that."

"So, are you bulletproof too?"

"Yes."

"And super strong?"

"Gretchen, are you going to help me or not?" She is still in awe about what just happened. She grabs my hand and pulls in the direction of my motel door. "Okay, I'll help you. Let's talk inside."


	5. Kingpin

Chapter 5: Kingpin

Malcolm Fitzgerald. Every few years, rumors spread that he is the kingpin of Los Angeles, but they die down after a while. He runs a public business that does charity funds for the less fortunate, while at the same time building golf courses for his wealthy friends. Gretchen told me that the charities are a ruse, because there are no records of the money actually being received by the charity. Malcolm raises money for fake charities so that he can buy drugs from foreign dealers. He hires thugs from the streets to do his dirty work and has them run chop shops and rob banks, while controlling all of the gambling rings in the city. He puts people on the street to collect money for churches that doesn't exist or to supposedly get people off of drugs, but the exact opposite is happening. The other crime lords depend on his dealings with the black market, while they handle the city's prostitution. They snatch up girls in their teens and twenties because they are more fertile. Some of the strip clubs are also run by Fitzgerald, increasing his revenue even more.

Gretchen then tells me about the other prostitutes, about how some of them were forced into it. Some of the girls had futures, but they were taken away by Malcolm's influence. Sometimes Malcolm himself will hire one of his prostitutes and bring them into his home. Some of them are impregnated by him, others are never seen again. Two of his bastard children live with him now, both in their mid to late twenties, and they are as bad as him. Serena and Tyler Fitzgerald, named by their father, want to take over his empire if anything happens to him. Gretchen then tells me something disturbing about the two siblings, saying that there are rumors that they are in an incest relationship. I put my hand up to signal not to go any further than that.

It is after midnight and I decide to let Gretchen stay in my room for the night. I want to help her get her life back on track, so the least I can do is be a good host. In the morning, we will work something out with her pimp. She sleeps in the bed by the far wall away from the door in this small, blue-gray motel room. Her coat and shoes sit on the floor between the two beds. I sit on the bed by the door, watching her sleep. I understand now that she is a woman who made a mistake, not some ruthless criminal to lock up for life. If I can make a difference in one person's life and not just break things, then maybe I can earn the title of Superman.

The next morning, Gretchen and I set off for Malcolm's workplace, which is an office building near Hollywood. I carry her in my arms as I take to the skies of Los Angeles. Gretchen looks down at the city below us, seemingly enjoying the view. Before she got up this morning, I stopped by the nearest department store to grab her some casual clothing. She now wears blue jean shorts, a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt, and white flip-flops with gold flowers. Now she looks at me, slowly rubbing the back of her hand down my cheek.

"You must be lonely, saving people all the time with no one to relate to. You know my name, so tell me yours."

"I don't have one," I said. "Then can I call you Superman," she asked.

"I don't care."

"You sure?" I looked at her and made a smirk. "Call me whatever you want."

Gretchen looks straight ahead of us, seeing Malcolm's office building about a mile off. She then holds on to me tighter, her grip feeling tense. Maybe she is afraid of what will be in store for us. "So Supes, what exactly will we be doing there? Are you going to use your super strength on Malcolm or something?" I sigh and respond. "Well I can't just attack him, Gretchen, I need to convict him, and the only way to do that is to see where he operates on a daily basis." We land on the rooftop of a black skyscraper with a rectangular structure around the entire building. I put Gretchen down and the two of us walk over to a door that will take us down into the building.

Moments later, the two of us are pinned against the wall, listening in on a business meeting in a nearby room. Gretchen stands behind me as I look into the meeting room with x-ray vision, seeing a number of men in expensive suits with one walking around the large meeting table. The room is painted white with the meeting table made of mahogany, but it is the man pacing the room that catches my eye. He is around 5'10 and has smooth hair combed back. He wears a black suit and has a proper, yet intimidating voice. He is African American with dark brown eyes and seems to be in peak physical condition for a man in his forties. I recognize this man from the police files that I read, knowing that this is the man Gretchen has told me about.

"I see Malcolm, Gretchen," I whisper to her, "And it looks like he is meeting with the other crime lords."

"So what now," she asks.

"I need to find out where their bank accounts are."

"What good will that do us," asks Gretchen.

"Crime lords are not difficult to figure out. They love money, and without it, they are just common criminals. It seems they want to know who is attacking their empires."

"So those weird arrests were your doing, right?"

"Right. Now I need to deal the final blow."

I continue to listen to the meeting. Malcolm begins to tell the others about an operation. Suddenly my interest is piqued and I attune my hearing a bit more.

"We need to catch this bastard before the police begin to catch on to us. I'm going to put the word out on the streets, $1 million to whoever kills him. The rest of you will set a trap for him. Tell your men that I will double the bounty if they bring him to me first."

Too bad for Malcolm, because I heard every word he said. Their trap won't work, because I am not going anywhere near their territories. They will expect me to bust up their operation, but instead I will play cold turkey. I have another plan. I continue to listen in to their meeting.

"You will tell your men that there will be a shipment of crystal meth at the northern docks tonight. That is where we will set our trap."

"I've heard enough. Let's go, Gretchen."

The two of us take to the skies once again as we decide to head back to the motel. I can't help but notice that Gretchen is staring at me with the utmost curiosity. "So, what happened?" She asked. "They want to set a trap for me. I'm not going."

"Why not? They can't hurt you."

"Because I have other plans."

"So what's on your mind," asked Gretchen.

"Remember when I said that they are nothing without their money? Well, I'm going to take it from them."

"How?"

"You'll see when we get back to the motel."

I sit on my bed, typing on a laptop that I bought at a department store nearby. Gretchen sits next to me, peeking at the screen to see what I am up to. I pull up a website with links to several banks in the area. I then check out the ones with the richest users and hack into the systems to see their account balance. I take a good look at the accounts of the crime lords after finding them, Malcolm's in particular, and notice that they have an unusual cash flow into their accounts.

I take out my projector and aim it at the screen. Gretchen looks in wonder at the device in my hand. With a press of a button, all the money in their accounts drops down to zero. Once the crime lords and Malcolm see that someone has hit them where it hurts the most, they will become desperate and stop at nothing to find the person responsible.

"You bankrupted them. I never thought you would actually do it," said a shocked Gretchen. I put the projector back in my pocket, and then I turn to face her.

"This is where we part ways, Gretchen. From here on out, you cannot follow me. The crime lords are going to come after me, and you shouldn't be near me when that happens." Gretchen looks at me with slight concern, and then kisses me on the cheek. She stands up and walks to the doorway, then takes one last look at me. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it." It's not myself I'm worried about, but anyone caught in the crossfire. Now the war is about to begin.


	6. Superman vs Malcolm

Chapter 6: Superman vs. Malcolm

It has been two days since I bankrupted the L.A. crime lords. As I anticipated, they are getting desperate. Without their money, they are generals without an army. Their lackeys will no longer follow them since they are broke, so they have to do their own dirty work from here on out.

Malcolm rushed back to his mansion and talked briefly with his kids. Serena and Tyler were instructed to stay home for now in case something goes wrong. Using my cloaking device, I hover a hundred feet off the ground from his mansion, spying on him to see what he will do next. Malcolm gets into his black Lamborghini and takes off at high speed. When his vehicle finally stops, he steps out in front of a warehouse by the docks.

The other crime lords step out of their vehicles. They walk over to the docking bay where Malcolm is standing with his back facing them. He turns his head to the side, addressing them. "I want him dead. Whoever is doing this, I want him dead. Find any of your men who are still loyal to you and send out a search team. Search the entire city, leave no stone unturned."

"And what are we looking for," asked one of the other crime lords.

"Anyone who sticks out, anyone who doesn't belong."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we made a threat?" Asked Bobby Russo. Bobby is a crime boss that I have had my eye on for a while. He's a Cuban-American drug lord with a taste for pleasure. He wears a white suit with a blue shirt. He has a gold ring on his left ring finger, a smooth yet chiseled face and a devilish mustache with short, combed hair. He is in his thirties, and makes use of it with his lust as he has two women under his arms. One is a blonde wearing a tight, yellow skirt, and the other-

"Oh no," I say to myself. Gretchen. Gretchen is the other woman with him. She is wearing a long black skirt with splits on the sides. Bobby must have hired her. I speed past them as an invisible blur, putting a communicator in Gretchen's right ear. I peek from the side of the warehouse to see that Gretchen has noticed the device, but doesn't try to touch it. "Some wind. Like I was saying, can't we threaten to kill random people until he shows his face," asked Bobby. Malcolm turns around to face him with a stern look. "And what makes you think that will draw him out, Russo?"

"Whoever is attacking us is obviously some half cocked vigilante. First our warehouses, then our entire operations, and then finally our bank accounts. This guy is some Good Samaritan trying to make us look bad and to make it worse, it's working."

"You may be on to something there, Russo," responds Malcolm. "Alright, spread out around the city. Find random people on the streets and take them hostage. If our mystery hero doesn't show his face in 6 hours, we kill the hostages."

I see Gretchen whisper something into Bobby's ear. She tells him that she needs to find the nearest restroom, and he tells her not to take too long. I see her walk inside the warehouse and make her way into the ladies room. Malcolm and the other crime lords get into their vehicles and take off, while Bobby is waiting for Gretchen.

"I'm here, S," said Gretchen into the communicator. "Did you hear them?"

"Every word," I responded.

"So what are you going to do? You can't show yourself to them."

"And if I don't, they bathe Los Angeles in blood."

"Look, meet me in one hour. I'll try to ditch Bobby," said Gretchen, sounding enthusiastic on that last part.

"I told you, we can't see each other anymore," I told her, hoping that she would listen to me.

"Then why did you even bother showing me your secret? You wanted someone on the inside, now you got it. Just because I'm a prostitute doesn't mean I'm dumb. I'll go back with Bobby now to learn more from him, and then I'll meet you at the motel."

"Okay, fine," I said reluctantly.

An hour later, Gretchen shows up at my motel room, telling me where each of the crime lords will be holding their hostages. In exchange for the hostages, they want me to give back the money I took from them in interest. Then, they want me to reveal myself to them and face them in an empty lot where there will be no witnesses, obviously to kill me.

Realizing that the crime lords may have people watching the streets, we decided to relocate to another location. I picked up Gretchen again in my arms and I flew the two of us to Hollywood Studios. I picked this location as a hideout since it is heavily guarded and has thousands of eye witnesses. I know that Gretchen will be in danger if she continues to help me, so she needs to be in a place where she will be safe.

Using the cloaking device, I follow the crime lords as they stop at seemingly random locations. Rather than kidnapping people like they said, they are asking questions about any strange looking people who have been seen in the past week. I follow Bobby to the Hilton hotel that I stayed at almost a week ago. Once again, no kidnapping. Malcolm returns to his mansion and speaks with his son and daughter.

I don't get it. They said they would kidnap random people around the city in order to lure me out, but I have listened to the police radio and there are no reports of missing persons. I have also followed them around the city, but they have made no move against the citizens. It then dawns on me when Bobby stops at the motel I was staying at, first the Hilton, now the motel. Could it be-

I immediately fly back to Malcolm's mansion, and he is sitting in his living room with his kids while watching a DVD, and on this DVD is a video recording from his work place. The video dates back to two days ago when Gretchen and I were spying on his meeting. Unfortunately, it shows two people against the wall in the hallway, standing twenty feet away from the office. Malcolm peeks over his shoulder, looking out of the front window.

"Come in. I've been expecting you." Stupid, stupid! I forgot about the cameras at his office building.

I walk in through the front door, stopping short of there. My cloaking device is off, but it is too late for that. Malcolm greets me at the door, lighting a cigar with a match in a dark gray suit. He puffs with the cigar in his mouth before taking it out. "You have caused me quite a bit of trouble. You hacked into my account as well as my associates, while belittling our business."

"I don't like the way you do business, Malcolm, running fake charities and financing all organized crime in the city." Malcolm takes another puff of his cigar and blows the smoke in my direction.

"Let me make this clear. Either you give back the money you took from me, or our threat of killing random people will come true. Yeah, I know you were listening, just as I know that whore you're protecting ratted us out." With a worried look on my face, I turn to face the door when Malcolm addresses me.

"By the way, we'll talk later about your... talents. I may have a job for you."

Within minutes, I search Hollywood Studios to see if I can find Gretchen. I bust into her trailer and with a sigh of relief, she is still safe. "Superman, what's wrong?"

"Gretchen, this place is going to be a war zone. I need you to stay close to me."

I hold Gretchen firmly under my arm as we walk through Hollywood studios. It is then that I see gunmen stationed at various points on the studio lot. Malcolm planned this all along; he had us followed from the very beginning, and now he is holding these people hostage without them knowing it. I underestimated my opponent, and now these people will pay the price.


	7. Final Chapter

Final Chapter

This is it, the moment of truth. I now have a difficult decision to make, to either protect Gretchen or protect these people. Without hesitation, I use super speed to snatch the guns from them, and then melt them with heat vision. One of Malcolm's men talks on his Bluetooth and orders the other men around the studio grounds to open fire on the crowd. Malcolm is acting exactly as I thought he would, a criminal with nothing to lose and wants to make everyone else suffer as a result.

I fly around the studio, heating up their guns so that they drop them. The studio guards have heard the gunshots and scatter to investigate. They find the perpetrators and cuff them on the spot. Just then, I hear another shot fired from where I left Gretchen.

I get there to find Gretchen in a pool of blood. Malcolm's men kept me distracted as a diversion so they could kill her while I wasn't around. He will not get away with this, I swear it. I fly her body back to the fortress to keep it preserved for the time being. I used my protective aura to keep her body from ripping apart at supersonic speed.

I catch up with the man who shot Gretchen. Of course, he is not willing to speak. "What do you want, freak?" I try to keep my heat vision cocked as it glares through my eyes. "You killed Gretchen Wells. You will go to the cops and confess your crimes, and you will tell them that Malcolm put you up to it."

"I don't have to do anything," said the thug. I look at him sternly. "That wasn't a request."

I grab him by the shirt and immediately throw him miles into the air. He screams for dear life as I catch him by the back of his shirt, and then bring his face inches away from mine.

"Willing to talk now?"

"Alright, alright, I'll talk!" Said Gretchen's killer.

Malcolm is back at his mansion and walks out with a suitcase. Just as he makes it to his car, it explodes and knocks him away. He lands on his back, only to sit up and see me with heat vision glaring and hovering in front of him. Malcolm's face turns red with anger. "I'll sue you for that," said Malcolm angrily. "Trying to skip town? Is it because your men no longer support you? Or maybe it is because you can no longer pay them? Without your precious blood money, your men have abandoned you, the crime families are losing patience since you were their banker, and to top it off, the police are on their way here. You are finished, Malcolm!"

"I swear, I will tell them about you."

"And tell them what, that you were beaten by Superman? They will throw you into a padded room." Malcolm then just sneers at me and laughs. "Have you forgotten about the video disc from my work building?" Malcolm's eyes widen then when he sees me take a disc out of my pocket.

"Oh, you mean this disc." Right in front of him, I melt the disc with my heat vision. Malcolm turns red again and strikes at me out of anger, but hurts his fist.

"You bastard!"

I stay behind, using my cloaking device as the police take Malcolm away. I follow the police around the city as they round up the crime families that Malcolm was funding. Now that my business in Los Angeles is finally over, there is one more thing I must do.

I fly back to the fortress and look at the crystal table that I placed Gretchen on in my lab. I can't let her die, not after what happened. She was a prostitute, but she redeemed herself by helping me. She wouldn't have died if she didn't help me. Modern science cannot revive her, and though my machines are millennia ahead of its time, I am not a god. I step a few yards behind Gretchen's body, approaching a massive orb of white light with a purple shell. This device is my hammer space generator, the power source of my entire fortress. I reach my hand into the massive energy orb and pull out a vial of glowing yellow fluid. I walk over to Gretchen's body and open her mouth, pouring the yellow liquid down her throat. Within moments, I see her eyes beginning to move...

One week later...

Gretchen stands in an alleyway back in LA. She wears black high-water pants and a white blouse with black sandals. Bobby Russo, one of Malcolm's fellow crime lords is now approaching her in the alley. To make up for the money he lost, Bobby has become a pimp and decided to hire Gretchen again as one of his prostitutes. Little does the Cuban-American drug lord know that Gretchen is not who she was a week ago.

Bobby had walked out of a brothel (whorehouse) and takes out a $100 bill, giving it to Gretchen. Gretchen softly pushes the dollar away, with Bobby seemingly offended.

"What's wrong, babe? My money not good enough for you?"

"I'm not a prostitute anymore. I came here to tell you to cut those girls loose."

"So what, you're a humanitarian now? Look, I'm a businessman, so why don't change into something that will catch a guy's attention?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Bobby. I'm not working for you!" Bobby grabs her by the throat, gritting his teeth. I stand across the street with my cloaking device on, hoping that she knows what she is doing. "Once a whore always a whore, Gretchen. I heard rumors that you were in league with some gringo who bankrupted me, but I'm over it. However, when one of my whores gives me lip, I get very upset. Now, you will go into the whorehouse and you will change clothes, then you will go out into the slums of LA and you bring me my money from the men you lay with. Understand?"

Gretchen slowly grabs Bobby's hand, and surprisingly to Bobby she starts to crush his hand with unbelievable strength. Bobby leans over in pain as Gretchen places her hand on his chest and picks him up like a paperweight. Apparently, she has already taken her daily dose of the serum I gave her at the fortress.

Within ten minutes, the brothel is being vacated by the police. Bobby has already left the area, and Gretchen stands across the street with me.

"Why did you want me to let Bobby go," asked Gretchen.

"Because Gretchen, you can't stop crime. If I captured every criminal in Los Angeles, I would be robbing the police force of their jobs. Bobby will return and we will be ready for him. By the way, how is my super serum working for you?"

"Having your powers for a whole day can be intoxicating."

"But they also saved your life," I replied.

Gretchen puts her arms around me passionately, rubbing her nose against mine. With that, she gives me a slow kiss before pulling her head back. "Thank you, for everything. Because of you, I'm not afraid anymore. I'm ready to rebuild my life."

"Gretchen, you don't need a Superman to rebuild your life, just a super will. I helped you, but now you have to take the first step."

"I know."

And with that, I finally departed from Los Angeles. I had spent an entire week there; exposing the crime families and helping a young woman get her life back together. Bobby Russo and Malcolm's kids are still at large, but I have spent enough time in the city of angels. The rest of the world needs my help, and I have to get going. Maybe I will return to Los Angeles one day soon, but for now I fly around in orbit, scanning the skies of Earth for trouble elsewhere, because the rest of the world still needs a Superman.

The End


End file.
